Here's a novel way of keeping with the Karlisms. The British collective I Love Dust—an ironic reference to their basement work area, not to anything illicit—has partnered with Karl Lagerfeld's KARL label on a capsule collection of limited-edition T-shirts inspired by the living trademark's off-the-cuff witticisms. The fours styles include a sketch of a leather glove, a trompe l'oeil shirt-front echoing his flashy lapels, and two others that use letters and graphics to create his name and famously shaded face. And while we're pretty sure "Chic is a kind of mayonnaise" is not one of those witticisms, but an accidental mash-up emblazoned on his forehead in this pic, one can never be absolutely certain with Karl Lagerfeld.
Available from May 31st on Karl.com, at the KARL pop-up store on Bleecker Street in New York and at Colette in Paris.
Spanish editor Luis Venegas’s cult magazine Candy has featured some eye-catching covers in its first few issues, with James Franco in drag and Chloë Sevigny posing as Terry Richardson. Now in its fourth issue, the world’s “first transversal style magazine” has taken its trans theme less literally with a liqueur-sweet shot of Tilda Swinton transformed into a retro-futuristic cabaret diva with a flowing mane of red curls.
Though the actor is best known for her own brand of androgynous dressing, here, wrapped in custom gold lamé, she gives the perfect frontage for what’s dubbed the Extra Extravagance Issue. Inside, Swinton poses as a variety of über-glam figures for photographer Xevi Muntané, while other editorials feature pregnant men in S&M gear by Steven Klein and a recreation of Nan Goldin photos by David Armstrong, featuring the lovely Marcel Castenmiller.
It's tempting to think Rob Pruitt's Flea Market this Saturday night in Paris will be a collective performance-art stunt, a kind of blithe comment on mass consumerism by an entire swath of the artistic community. But judging from a similar market the American artist staged two years ago in London, in association with the Tate, it's safe to say it is exactly what it claims to be...
Rob Pruitt's Flea Market
Saturday, May 19, 18:00-00:00
Monnaie de Paris
11 Quaiy de Conti
75006 Paris
This ridiculously cute dancing baby reminds us why Facebook is valued at $100 billion, and worth every penny. To promote their new Amazing line of sunglasses, the clever folks at Swarovski having created an interactive Facebook app that lets users all over the world virtually wear a pair while showing off their best moves in the style of Dance Dance Revolution. They can also submit a short video for a chance to win the sunglasses, but for us, just watching this unsuspecting baby flop around is reward enough.
Forget Paris and Milan. These days you're no one if you haven't shown in China. Karl Lagerfeld, of course, laid the groundwork back in 2007 with his monumental Fendi show atop the Great Wall, its ancient stones converted into a glitzy runway. Since then, luxury brands—i.e. Dior, Prada, Burberry—have been rushing to stick their flag in China, ready to over-saturate a market that's showing an insatiable appetite for fashion.
Jean Paul Gaultier is the latest to stage a production in the land of Confucianism and Communism. Yesterday he recreated his latest couture collection, as well as fall men's and women's, to an influential Beijing crowd that included actors Jennifer Tse and Simon Yam. If the former enfant terrible can put Andrej Pejic on the catwalk in the historically conservative town, who's next to head east?
Daphne Guinness gave a few unsuspecting New Yorkers quite the surprise over the weekend when she took the stage at the L.E.S. dive Arlene’s Grocery for a four-song set with local band Element 4. Clad in a rock-worthy black ensemble, she growled out a few classics, including Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit and Patti Smith’s Because the Night.
The unlikely combo came together when the band randomly contacted Guinness, the heiress explained via Twitter, adding that she only practiced once before the gig. She also says it isn't a one-off thing, tweeting: "It is the real me. It is not a phase, just something I never revealed before."
While we’re having a hard time imagining Guinness teetering out of the dingy bar to throngs of chunks-drunk teens, we definitely admire her chutzpah for going onstage. Although maybe she shouldn’t quit her day job just yet—whatever it is.
When I was five I stood in the rain waiting for Queen Elizabeth. I was expecting Liz Taylor dripping in diamonds when a middle-aged lady wearing a hat like a window cleaner’s bucket drove past. She wasn’t even in a Rolls Royce. "Wave at the Queen!" Mummy said. And I did, though my wave was more international salute than royal flutter.
Fast forward to me as a crazy teen, running away from home for the first time. My cousin, gay as a summer’s day, smuggled me into Balmoral Castle, where he was working as one of QEII’s servants, serving stodgy food six times a day.
It’s not hard to see why camp-as-a-cracker Diana became anorexic in this atmosphere. Flabby folk crawling around the tartan rugs with corgis had me reaching for the puke bucket, and I'm not a bulimic—I lack the commitment for it.
I made up my mind there and then that when I could afford servants they would be deaf-mute eunuchs. Gossip about the royal family, usually from people paid to wipe their brown bits, reminds you why it’s best to go to the toilet without a reliable witness.
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"Machine is burning, my head is turning" are the only lyrics to be found on Turning, a minimal, 80s-reminiscent track from Headman. Monotonous to the point of trippy, it grinds along to a Moroder-esque synthesizer and languid vocals by Tara, complete with an equally lo-fi video consisting of things turning and other things exploding. It's part of a limited six-track EP that includes remixes by Emperor Machine and Scott Fraser (also excellent!), as well as two remixes of Headman's last single, Be Loved.
Earlier this week, the so-called graffiti artist Kidult splashed the word ART in pink letters across the front of Marc Jacobs store in Soho, following similar vandalism of Christian Louboutin, Hermès, Louis Vuitton, YSL, and Colette in Paris.
But trying to out-stunt Marc Jacobs is proving to be a losing battle for Kidult. Rather than naming a bag after the graffitist, Jacobs (or someone at the label) created a pink T-shirt with the words Art by Art Jacobs and a photo of the defaced storefront, accompanied by a tweet that read: "Available now for $689. Signed by the artist, $680." That prompted this not-so-clever retort: "@MarcJacobsIntl ... ??? LET'S PLAY, but we don't play the same rules!" Then, a bit later: "SHAME on you, YOU COPY @therealkidult to make money with it, capitalist thieve."
Probably not a good idea to provoke a provocateur.
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